Macdonald Hall #7: The Joke's on us

Watch Out for the Lasers

Mr. Sturgeon was normally a sound sleeper — even more so now that he was dosed with pain pills. But in the midst of an elaborate dream, his foot suddenly exploded like a hand grenade. He woke up to a searing pain and the realization that he had rolled over and kicked the bedpost with his sore toe.

He stifled a cry to avoid waking his wife. But when he looked over to make sure she was undisturbed, he noticed that she was not even there.

He sat up. "Mildred?" There was no answer.

"Mildred — " he called, louder. Still no reply.

He got out of bed and hobbled to the top of the stairs. " Mildred!" he bellowed. Where was his wife?

Somewhat alarmed, the Headmaster threw on his red silk bathrobe, stepped gingerly into his bedroom slippers, and limped down the stairs. He looked out on the porch and scanned the deserted campus. All seemed quiet. Where on earth could she be?

Mr. Sturgeon frowned. He had no idea where to look, but he couldn't just sit here in the house and wait for her to come back from wherever she was. What an odd situation!

He limped to the closet and shrugged into his overcoat. A small feathered hat fell from the top shelf and came to rest on his foot.

"Ugh," he said aloud, picking it up. What an ugly hat. Since when did Mildred have such terrible taste?

He snapped his fingers. This wasn't his wife's; this monstrosity belonged to Miss Scrimmage.

She had left it here after her first snit of the school year. Idly, he wondered why Mildred had never returned it in all this time.

And — wait a minute. Miss Scrimmage's hat had been covered in feathers. Yet now it was almost naked. What had happened to them?

What use could his wife have for ugly feathers? Long, brown ones, the same kind the Phantom —

He dropped the hat as though it had burned his fingers. The unthinkable slammed into his mind with the force of a runaway train. Those were Phantom feathers! Could Mildred be the Phantom? It made no sense, but who could deny the evidence?

He grabbed his cane from the umbrella stand. More than ever now, it was urgent that he find his wife. Where could she be?

He paused at the door. Where would the Phantom be? It came to him with remarkable clarity. Tonight there could be only one target for the legendary practical joker of Macdonald Hall.

The Discus Thrower.

Elmer walked between Cathy and Diane back to their room. His feet hardly touched the floor. Every few steps, he would launch himself straight up, punching at the air and cheering,

"Yes! Yes!"

"Cut it out!" hissed Diane. "You'll wake up Miss Scrimmage!"

"I'm sorry," Elmer struggled to contain himself. "I'm just so jubilant that Marylou doesn't have a boyfriend! I am ebullient! Effervescent! Exultant!"

"You're happy," Cathy translated.

"That too," confirmed the genius. "You know, I think Marylou liked me."

"How could she resist?" groaned Cathy. "I'll tell you what. I'll raid the kitchen and we can chow down while Marylou is tutoring Edward. Then we can go back and you two can get acquainted." She ran off, flashing thumbs-up.

Elmer glowed. "You're great friends. Imagine — I used to think you girls were maniacs."

Diane laughed and unlocked her door. "Now, you've got to promise to stop celebrating. It's the middle of the night."